


hold your hair in deep devotion (how deep?)

by Evanaissante



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blow Jobs, Consensual, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Ice Play, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-02 02:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evanaissante/pseuds/Evanaissante
Summary: There’s also this small fire Stan feels at his fingertips, this feeling of power coursing through him as he brings this creature of the night to his knees in front of him. It’s insane, really, but Stan doesn’t care much when Boris’ red lips start kissing his skin.orStanley Uris gets a blowjob from his vampire boyfriend because he deserves it.





	hold your hair in deep devotion (how deep?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [porcia_catonis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcia_catonis/gifts), [SpicyWolfsbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyWolfsbane/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The stars have turned cherry red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869706) by [SpicyWolfsbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyWolfsbane/pseuds/SpicyWolfsbane). 

> this is the worst porn i've ever written but passed the eleventh time i wrote "cock" i thought, _well, fuck this shit and here we are_. as always, english is not my first language, if you see typos, scream at me.__
> 
> this is for my emotional support wives; dani - aggressively loving brazilian bolinho and cat - classy artsy goth queen. i love you both very very much and you inspire me every day... to apparently write bad vampire porn. aren't you proud of me, queers?

Boris’ breath on his thigh makes Stan squirm, he knows, deep down, that this is a dangerous position to be in, that’s vulnerable like this, flat on his back, his legs dangling from the bed. Yet, he can’t stop the warm feeling at the pit of his stomach from growing, this sense of arousal that’s making him dizzy and hard even without Boris’ touch.

There’s also this small fire Stan feels at his fingertips, this feeling of power coursing through him as he brings this creature of the night to his knees in front of him. It’s insane, really, but Stan doesn’t care much when Boris’ red lips start kissing his skin. They’re cold and it shouldn’t make his erection stand prouder but Stanley has stopped caring a long time ago about normalcy. He’s sharing his bed with a vampire after all.

His hands find Boris’ curls on their own, directed by the need to touch, to hold something and to grip it as the mouth on his body moves, leaving him shivering. When he was in college, Stanley once had a very riveting night with another student who stripped him bare and passed an ice cube on his nipples and torso while he opened him up. Boris’ tongue has the same effect on his epiderm, Stan shakes as the other man licks the inside of his thigh, getting closer and closer to his still clothed cock.

Stan moans, he can’t help it, and he feels Boris’ smile, sharply amused and it makes him dizzier, the reminder that Boris could sink his teeth in his soft flesh at any minute, that he might be the one whose hands are guiding Boris’ head but Boris is the one who has him wrapped around his finger.

“Something to say, _ mica _?” The creature says, eyes shining under this light and Stanley could swear they glow red when he breathes in deeper, the veins on his neck bulging. “Use your words.”

“I-” He never knows what to do when Boris look at him like this, when he uses this nickname and softly bite him, his teeth only grazing the surface of Stan’s warm skin as his lips kiss him coldly. 

Boris looks up and Stan is momentarily reminded of how beautiful this man is, but it isn’t a common sort of beauty. Stan has met a lot of people in his life, some far more attractive than others, but he has never met someone quite like Boris. There’s an edge to his charm, a certain grace in his asymmetry and refinement in the way his eyes seem too big for his face. He looks painted, designed by a higher power that Stan doesn’t have the brainpower to question right now as Boris’ finger find the band of his boxers and fiddle with it.

“Do you want me to stop, _ mica _?” He knows the answer already, the bastard, but this is part of the game they play, this is part of what makes Stan’s blood boil. “I can’t stop when you like.”

This is a game and Stan knows his move, he knows the rules and he knows how to win. He opens his mouth, licking his lips slowly, breathing quickly and bringing his fingers to his own hair in a weak attempt to keep his curls off his forehead.

He doesn’t whine, because he never would, not even for this game, but it’s high enough to make Boris’ smile grow wider. “Please,” He says, “Boris, please.”

“Please what, little one?” 

Stanley huffs, breath a little weak, “Please, _Boris,_ please suck my cock.”

Boris’ teeth peak out, he’s won this round and he knows it, “All you want, _mica,_ I’ll give you all you want.”

When Stan’s erection hits the air, he groans, low and needy with want. He never felt this raw with other people, never this exposed. Maybe it’s because of the way Boris always undresses him with his eyes first before he starts actually shedding clothes, maybe it’s the threat of his fangs on Stan’s skin. Maybe it’s just Boris.

When Boris finally brings his hand to Stan’s dick, he full-on starts shaking. Boris’ hand is almost unbearably cold on his warm flesh, it stings and burns, but Stan doesn’t safeword, he’s becoming used to the particular feeling of Boris’ icy skin on his.

“You’re so beautiful, _ mica, _so so beautiful for me.” Boris smiles again and Stan almost wishes he had the strength to deck him but he’s just a mess right now and he can only stare. “It is for me, isn’t it, darling? Just for me.”

“Yes, yes, just for you, always for you,” Stan’s hands are gripping the side of the bed aggressively and this isn’t good, he’s so close already and he only has two of Boris’ cold finger wrapped around his length. “Please, Boris, pl-”

“Or maybe this is for someone else?” That stops Stan in his tracks, “Is it for someone else? You spread your legs for other men, _ târfă?” _

Stan knows this word, he knows this word because Boris only ever uses it when they do this and Stan is about to burst with a mix of pleasure and shame as Boris finally, _finally,_ takes the underside of Stan’s cock in his mouth. Boris’ mouth is cold too, but not enough to hurt, not enough to make Stan flinch like he did when Boris’ fingers caressed him. It’s cold but a little warm too and Stan loses himself in the feeling of Boris’ soft lips around him. Boris’ mouth, gosh, Stanley could write prose poems about the natural pale red colour of his lips and how it turns scarlet when they kiss, how sweet it tastes when Stan bites them before letting himself kiss the chapped parts again and again. He could write sonnets on the warm, swallowing brown of Boris’ eyes and the golden and ruby flickers he notices like this, when Boris is looking back at him, eyes wet and mouth full.

Stan knows society has made it a degrading term, but if anyone deserves the name of cocksucker, it would be Boris. He looks made for it, with those curls falling on his dark eyes as he bops his head up and down, making Stan growl with pleasure. To Stanley, and he’s sure to Boris too, it’s not a dirty word anymore, _cocksucker,_ it’s a title of honour.

Stan's hands find Boris' hair with desperation, he grips the back of Boris' head, the few curls that rest on his neck and he pulls, just enough to feel Boris' low groan around his dick. He'll never get tired of this, of how Boris takes him deeper and deeper until he feels Boris' throat move around him and saliva spill on his inner thigh. This is all he loves and all he needs.

Boris must feel his pleasure because he pulls back, eyes shining like two pieces of burning coal, breath a little short and lips redder than cherries. He's smiling, the bastard, Stan wants to grab his hair again and direct him back to his task, but Boris helds on, one hand creeping on Stan's torso before he twists one of his nipples, hard. Stan groans as Boris smiles wider and moves closer, "You love this, _mica_, you always make beautiful sounds."

"Fuck you, you teasing bitch," Stan sighs, his cock his hard and heavy between his legs and he wants to come, he needs to. If Boris doesn't give him what he wants soon, he'll take it, fangs or not.

Boris taunts him, his teeth coming to bite his earlobe, "Patience, lover, you wanted this, remember?"

Stan huffs, "I wouldn't have asked if I'd known you'd be such an annoying brat."

"You knew," Boris doesn't offer explanations, he just bites Stan' ear again," You always know."

"Boris, please, just-" He's so close to begging again and that just won't do. He knows he's asked for a night like this, that they've talked about this, but Stan is tired and horny and he wants _more_. "Kneel."

Boris' eyes shine even brighter, "Is that what you want, _mica_?"

"You know it is," Stan's voice gets lower without meaning to, he makes a grab at Boris' hair again, scratching at his scalp just a little and Boris moans. He must know too, that the game changed. "_Kneel_, Boris."

He does it, falling on the floor so nicely, hands behind his back like Stan taught him. He's always so beautiful in this position when he looks back at Stanley, his eyes fluttering and biting his lips, with his fangs today, it's a gorgeous sight. 

"Look at you," Stan whispers as he lifts Boris' head to him, exposing his pale neck and cutting jaw, "Are you aching for it, Boris?" A nod, but they both know that isn't enough, "If you are, you know the rules." 

"_Mica, _I-_" _

"That's not my name."

Boris exhales, "Kolibri, _please_."

It doesn't take Stanley long before he finally lets Boris suck him off again. He's the one who chooses the pace now as he moves Boris' head, sometimes pushing it down until he feels Boris' throat tremble around him, sometimes just pulling until only the tip of his cock rests on Boris' tongue. It's a powertrip but it's them, it's what they do.

"You know," Stan starts between two groans, "I don't think I'm the _târfă _here_." _Boris must know where this is going but he still hums interrogatively, wanting and needy, "I don't think I'm the one who opens my legs for other men, Boris, I think that's you. Look at yourself." Stan almost wishes he could film this, maybe for another time, "Are you going to come sucking my dick, Boris? Are you going to come in your pants with my cock in your mouth, like a _whore_?"

Boris' hips bucked under him and he moaned loudly, Stan continued, "Because that's what it means, doesn't it? And I'm not the _târfă, _you know that, I'm not the one ready to fall on my knees for any man I meet. I'm not the one trying to rub himself on the floor like an animal."

He lets Boris breathe a little, but the other man takes that opportunity to wrap a hand around Stan. "Not for other men, Kolibri, never for other men." There's a fire in his eyes, a flame that destroys everything it touches and leaves Stanley mesmerized. "Only you."

Stan's orgasm takes him by surprise, one second he's holding Boris' chin and kissing his lips, the other he's shaking, his arousal spilling in Boris' hand and on the floor. It isn't exactly what he'd planned, but it's perfect, it's all he wants. When the tremors swaying him finally stop, he pulls Boris up on his feet before he pushes him on their bed. He unbuttons Boris' pants quickly, dying to give back all of the pleasure and bliss he just received. It might have not taken him long to come but it takes Boris even less. The moment Stanley puts a finger on him, Boris's eyes roll back and he shouts a word Stanley doesn't know. It's beautiful, the way Boris' body tenses intensely before becoming boneless and falling down like a ragdoll.

They're both sticky now, it's disgusting and Stan knows that he won't be able to sleep before he gets them clean, but he just wants to take a moment to hold his boyfriend close and kiss his cheek.

"That was a good scene." He says as Boris pops his plastic fangs out with a snort.

"Didn't really follow the plan, but yes." He turns around, eyes still rimmed with red and gold, Stan will have to remind him to take his contacts off. "I think I like better when we don't follow the plan."

Stan stretches a little, wrapping one arm around Boris and clinging to him, "It was good and I think it gives another meaning to the word _traditions_."

Boris snorts again, scrunching his nose, "Blow jobs and domination for Halloween traditions, very American;"

Stan kisses his shoulder, biting it a little because he could never help himself, "It's very us."

Boris hums in agreement, "Next year," he says, "you'll do the werewolf."

"Now wait a minute-"

**Author's Note:**

> "but marie, if boris isn't a vampire, why was he so cold?" this bitch took an ice bath and drank ice water before he had sex. he's extra like that.
> 
> feel free to leave a kudo and a comment! and find me on [the storis archives](https://sputnikolibri.tumblr.com) for more stan/boris content!


End file.
